Andrei Tarkovsky
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Annihilation (2018)
Directed by Alex Garland
influenced by Stalker (1979), Solaris (1972)
Themes Visuals
Imagine Andrei Tarkovsky’s “Stalker” with a strong no-nonsense heroine and pulse-racing creature attacks, and suddenly, such an excursion starts to sound enticing for those who otherwise can’t abide slow cinema (or the kind of ontological concerns this movie raises).
Based on Jeff VanderMeer's novel, Annihilation slightly resembles Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker (1979), a highly artistic masterpiece from a much braver time, when audiences were less likely to balk at ambiguity.
Annihilation, which Garland adapted from the first novel in Jeff VanderMeer’s “Southern Reach” trilogy, is a riveting and often unnerving combination of head trip sci-fi on the order of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Stalker and high-end, Ten Little Indians-style creature feature like Alien and The Thing.
Andrei Tarkovsky's "Stalker" also comes to mind, but one wishes Garland was more influenced by the latter than the former.
From the score that mounts from a recognizable, melodic charge to something that’s significantly less human, to cold and measured performances, to visuals that harken back to Stalker and Stanley Kubrick, but are decidedly Garland’s- the film is masterfully composed.
He was in The Shimmer, of course, and it’s here that sci-fi fans may start to recognize the phantom impression of Andrei Tarkovsky’s deep-think genre classics, films like Solaris or Stalker, the latter similarly concerned with the traversing of a mysterious realm.
The movie is as thought-provoking, in a less profound way, than Tarkovsky's "Solaris," another film about a sort of parallel Earth.
One of the most poignant moments in Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris comes when the cosmonaut Snaut remarks that, “We don't want any more worlds, only a mirror to see our own.”
There are no little green men and no special effects to speak of, but the looming presence of that planet and its possibilities turns Another Earth into a metaphysical treat, with influences that range from Krzysztof Kieslowski's The Double Life of Veronique and Blue to Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris.
First-time director Mike Cahill's "Another Earth" suggests Andrei Tarkovsky's "Solaris" by way of Aaron Katz.
That lush, dewy garden is both a nod to an earthly paradise lost and a reference to Douglas Trumbull’s “Silent Running” — one of a few ’70s science-fiction classics, including those Andrei Tarkovsky landmarks “Solaris” and “Stalker,” that reverberate amid this movie’s deep gloom and spare, temporally ambiguous visual design.
Besides, the most immediate point of reference for “High Life” isn’t George Lucas or Andrei Tarkovsky (though “Stalker” is an obvious lodestar for Denis, both in its mechanics and in its mystery), it’s Paul Schrader, whose “First Reformed” might be the only recent film to be so preoccupied with the end of all existence, and the possibility of wresting some kind of future from the obsidian-black darkness that stretches out before us.
The only distant predecessors are probably Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris and Stalker , which Denis calls her "good luck charms" in the press notes and whose influence you can feel in the way she cuts between the harsh surfaces of the spaceship (which have a very video-like HD look to them) and the grainier textures of Earth (which were shot on 16mm).
Clearly Denis is operating under the creative influence of Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1970s sci-fi classics, “Solaris” and “Stalker,” potent blends of psychological thriller and adventure into the unknown.
It’s as if on Earth High Life is in the realm of Stalker ; in space, where memory and hallucination stake their claim, in that of Solaris .
You can look to recent films like Upstream Color or Cloud Atlas or go further back to The Man Who Fell to Earth , Stalker, or even 2001: A Space Odyssey .
There is a “Stalker“-esque, almost science fiction vibe to these ambiguities, especially amid the film’s annihilated landscapes, but “Loveless” unfolds in the recent past, not the near future.
The methodical searching of an abandoned building that the boys used as a camp is reminiscent of Andrei Tarkovsky's vision of dripping multilevel ruin in Stalker.
It’s a revelation that proves as terrifying as anything brought in the film’s resolution, which develops incrementally towards a conclusion that has all the inexorability of the territory (it comes with some exterior locations that match even Tarkovsky’s Stalker for wondrous dereliction).
The plangent dialogue is surpassed by the child’s flat gaze upon a flat, gray, all-but-done city, face round, unblinking like the girl who makes magic at the end of Tarkovsky’s “Stalker.”
The decrepit apartment complex is straight out of the 1979 Stalker , with its murky puddles and piles of debris, and there’s even a quasi-in-joke reference to that film when one of the places the lost-child brigade goes to post fliers is a government complex with the words “forbidden zone” printed on the gate.
The hunt takes them through apartment blocks, dense forests, abandoned wastelands, and, most notably, a decaying Soviet-era complex that once housed conference rooms, a movie theater, and a basketball court — a massive, decrepit building that looks at times like it came right out of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker .
If the writer, Philip Eisner, drew inspiration for his screenplay from any single picture, it would easily be Andrei Tarkovsky’s “Solaris.”
The obvious inspiration for "Event Horizon'' is a much better film, Andrei Tarkovsky's " Solaris " (1972), where a space station orbits a vast planet.
The basic concept has been done before in Forbidden Planet and more recently Event Horizon would steal some elements from it.
For those who know Tarkovsky’s Mirror, it’s an easy point of reference, just without, you know, all the overtly magical imagery. As in that, Jackson’s subjects seem to spring from the earth itself, their lives, troubles, and dreams expressed through their bodies and their environment.
Elegant camerawork by cinematographer Jomo Fray also marvelously captures this unique flow of time, especially during a showstopping wedding sequence in a church that recalls, of all things, the movement and pacing of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Mirror. Any film warranting a comparison of that degree is doing something correct.
Melancholia (2011)
Directed by Lars von Trier
influenced by Solaris (1972), The Sacrifice (1986)
Music Visuals Plot
Melancholia is a raw psychodrama with the unnerving drone of Tarkovsky’s Solaris, its angst giving birth to the ultimate cosmic correlative.
Clearly inspired by the silent suggestive power of Andrei Tarkovsky’s films (in this case, perhaps “Solaris” more than others), von Trier marries his perceptive efforts with subtle nods to a variety of other sources – in particular, the painting “Ophelia” by John Everett Millais, which inspires the image of Justine in a wedding dress being carried along a river current.
The most obvious influence here is " The Sacrifice ," the last film by one of von Trier's artistic heroes, Andrei Tarkovsky , which looks in on a single isolated family's reaction to a possible nuclear cataclysm.
Take, for instance, a scene where Lorraine makes mince meat of a Russian henchman's face behind the screen of a movie theater playing Andrei Tarkovsky's "Stalker."
The film serves up these bravura moments in entertainingly different ways — sometimes with an artsy backdrop (Lorraine battles in a movie theatre while Tarkovsky’s Stalker plays on a large screen behind her), and other times with a gripping simplicity, like when she has to journey through a seemingly abandoned building, shooting and punching her way to safety.
In a debriefing room at MI-6, she narrates the events of the preceding week to a British handler (Toby Jones) and a guest from the CIA (John Goodman): She is sent to West Berlin to recover a list of Western agents called, er, “the List”; makes contact with the punk-rock local station chief, Percival (James McAvoy), who has a side business selling Jordache jeans to East Berliners; stabs thugs at a screening of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker ; and has a fling with a rookie French intelligence agent, Delphine (Sofia Boutella).
It ain’t art, either, even if Lorraine does fight a few villains in silhouette against a Berlin movie screen playing Andrei Tarkosky’s “Stalker.”
There’s one fight sequence where Lorraine takes on a bad guy in front of a movie screen showing Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker, which will give a nice laugh to cinephiles like me.
Here, his more pretentious reference is to Tarkovsky (Broughton fights a bunch of henchmen at a screening of Stalker), and there is the suggestion that collapsing, nightmare-ish East Berlin has become like Stalker’s zone: a lawless, borderless place that allows people to live out their desires, to find their true selves — for better or for worse.
Von Trier's imagery recalls the great Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky's The Mirror and Sacrifice, especially with the cabin and woods that pulse with earthy tones of green and brown.
The original script was written by Fridrikh Gorenshtein (the screenwriter of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris) and it was laughably awful—or maybe just badly translated.
But then again, a shot of one of the Na’vi’s six-legged riding beasts running away from battle engulfed in flames evokes the stumbling horse in the battle scene of Andrei Rublev , and like that film, it raises the question of whether the divisions of pagan nature-worship and more polite creeds might be wrong-headed, with an overall concept of humanity and nature fatally out of balance.
The expatriated Soviet has not just relocated the action to Sweden but has settled deep inside the fist of Nordic spiritual restlessness and Winter Light-style furors of the soul.
There’s also a dusty passage haunted by a dog, snuffling around in homage to Stalker, and a chillout room where the walls ripple with images of birds, fishes, bees, and flowers (you may remember something similar, but glossier, in Blade Runner 2049).
With its nuclear-orange lighting and mod furnishings, a pivotal scene between Pitt’s astronaut and a shrewd Mars administrator (an underused Ruth Negga) feels like a direct visual quote of Solaris .
“If Mars had life on it, I might find my wife on it,” Brian Wilson once sang—which isn’t that far, come to think of it, from the premise of Tarkovsky’s Solaris.
In a director's statement, he's acknowledged his debt to such cerebral sci-fi classics as Silent Running (1971), Solaris (1972), Outland (1981), and BladeRunner (1982).
While 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Solaris (1972) are obvious touchstones, Jones seems more directly inspired by smaller films of the era such as Dark Star (1974) and Silent Running (1972).
Moon shows a clear and present influence by Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey and Stanislaw Lem's Solaris (which has been filmed twice - once in 1972 by Andrei Tarkovsky and once in 2002 by Steven Soderbergh ).
I'm probably not the first one to make that joke, but in all seriousness it might be fitting, since Bowie's classic song evoked a sense of weightless solitude that was shared by its film contemporary, 2001: A Space Odyssey, as well as by other science fiction films of that mold, particularly Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris -- and the feelings of those quiet, contemplative films are exactly what Jones is paying homage to.
His pensive debut feature Moon is an elegy for the thoughtful storytelling of films such as Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and Tarkovsky’s Solaris.
Sam’s dishevelled appearance and the film’s low budget aesthetic even resembles Dark Star to a degree while thematically Moon also strongly evokes Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris.
(See "Traffic," where supernal cinematic art was deployed to send the message that Drugs Are Bad.) On one hand, it seems remarkable, even outlandish, that the same director who remade the Rat Pack caper flick "Ocean's Eleven" would go on to make a new version of Andrei Tarkovsky's "Solaris," a languorous, Soviet-made art film that (like most of Tarkovsky's work) pushes at the outer edges of philosophical abstraction.
Solaris is based on the novel by Stanisalw Lem, which was first brought to the screen in 1972 by Soviet filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky.
If you haven't seen Andrei Tarkovsky's 1972 SF masterpiece Solaris, can't see it Friday night, November 29, on Turner Movie Classics, and don't want to watch the just-released DVD or wait for the Music Box's rerelease in January, you might find Steven Soderbergh's remake intriguing and compelling, because the story it tells is certainly haunting.
Solaris is a remake of Russian director Andrei Tarkovksy's 1972 film.
His daring new project, Solaris, is a dead-serious, big-budget remake of the fabled 1972 art film by the late Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky.
This is a classic space-mission-gone-wrong movie, with obvious echoes of Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” Tarkovsky’s “Solaris” and numerous others.
As we will learn, he hails from near Chernobyl, in Ukraine, and so, as everyone jokes, must be radioactive (and in yet another cinematic reference, demonstrates possible telekinetic abilities à la the child in Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1979 Stalker).
Nymphomaniac: Vol. I (2013)
Directed by Lars von Trier
influenced by Stalker (1979), Andrei Rublev (1966)
Visuals
In returning to sources (Tarkovsky is referenced multiple times throughout, one chapter title included), examining the self (a particularly on-the-nose Antichrist callback emerges; maybe as a joke, maybe not) and making convergences (yet another image of a Gainsbourg character lying in a field makes way for a pronounced Stalker homage), a genuine softness and delicacy — melancholy, one might say — runs through the current of sex and recklessness.
He even throws in a few references to Tarkovsky’s most austere film, Andrei Rublev (about a medieval Russian icon painter), to underline his seriousness.
The Green Knight (2021)
Directed by David Lowery
influenced by Andrei Rublev (1966), The Sacrifice (1986), Stalker (1979)
Visuals
Lowery has cited Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev and Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V as inspirations; the film also hints at John Boorman’s Arthurian extravaganza Excalibur and Guillermo del Toro’s sylvan fantasy Pan’s Labyrinth.
There are Dutch painters you could call out here—Brueghel with fewer figures within a denuded landscape—as well as scenes of pillage and splash and splatter in Tarkovsky’s “Andrei Rublev,” but the design research for “The Green Knight” is absorbed into its wholly realized world.
It wouldn't be surprising if The Green Knight were to be studied in film school or if it will become a cult classic like Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice or Stalker.
It wouldn't be surprising if The Green Knight were to be studied in film school or if it will become a cult classic like Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice or Stalker.
I was surprised to be reminded of the unexplained rainfall glimpsed inside a house in Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris, but it occurred to me later that this parallel might not be as implausible as I supposed -- and not just because De Palma is a compulsive moviegoer who sees a lot more than Hollywood product.
For Sphere, he lifted the premise of Tarkovsky's Solaris, in which a physical object - here a mysterious shimmering sphere discovered in a submerged spaceship at the bottom of the ocean - causes those who enter it to give physical form to their inner thoughts.